To the Poets

It is hard…

…to swallow those words

unwritten,

as they burn in our chest

but life bars us from ink sometimes

yet, love heeds its request

for need and duty steal our hands

and lips must smile

in spite

of unshed thought

burning our eyes

in words we long to write

but know they slip

into the mist

never to return

for inspiration is like this

a sudden poem

yearns

to see the light of day before

dissolving in thin air

and no one but the poet sees

it slowly disappear

and no one but a poet knows

that sorrowful good-bye

of words un-penned

drifting away

into the hollow sky

Janet~

Mary commented on how she has not been 'around' as much as she would choose

without time to read or write, due to...life. I felt her unspoken acceptance...

We've all been there, but love quiets and fills in our lives what nothing else can

and as for all the 'lost poems' . They are caught in those sudden half-breaths when love is so astounding

we don't know what to say...